


Selene

by Neila_Nuruodo



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Aether Sex, Comfort, Loneliness, Oral Sex, Other, gender-ambiguous sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-12
Updated: 2019-12-12
Packaged: 2021-02-18 03:07:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21770767
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Neila_Nuruodo/pseuds/Neila_Nuruodo
Summary: "Loneliness is lessened by the sharing."You struggle to fall asleep, heart chained to the night's beauty.  He comes to help you.Completely ambiguous reader/Elidibus comfort and sex.
Relationships: Elidibus (Final Fantasy XIV)/Reader
Comments: 6
Kudos: 54





	Selene

You know you ought to be sleeping, yet you can't seem to tear your eyes from the moon, gripped by an inexplicable soul-deep yearning. The silvery orb stands tall in the sky, nearly full, shedding silent light over the land. Your heart beats almost painfully hard but sluggish as its touch bathes your face, sensible only by the cool glow upon your skin. But even this serves to soothe the pain in your chest—the undeniable knowledge that, in some way, its beauty touches you, even at this remoteness.

"What troubles you?"

So fixated you are upon the spectral glory before you that you do not startle at the unanticipated voice. Indeed, it does not seem truly out of place; the low, resonant tones bear the same muted resplendence as the object of your admiration; the roughness is that of fine dust, nearly smooth itself yet guaranteed to polish to a gleam whatever it might chance to encounter.

When footsteps ring out, their sheer mundanity breaks the spell enough that you can turn—must turn—to determine their source. A man moves toward you, light crawling up his figure as he advances. It illuminates a robe as pale as the last object of your attention, as pristine. Gold chases the light upward, gleaming muted splendor edging purity. Your tongue cleaves in faltering worship to your palate. Color breaks the perfection, slashing up his center, brown and gold surrendering to lavender about his heart. Your eyes linger there upon his breast as he comes fully into the light, wrenched away finally by the deep red of the mask obscuring the upper portion of his face, overshadowed by his hood.

“So keenly your heart called out that I could hear it from above the star. What manner of supplication beats so fierce within your breast that you managed to reach so far?”

Breath returns in a rush, unsteady, and you clench your hand against the desire to reach out. It can be but a seeming, an illusion; the moon himself cannot truly stand before you. The realization digs cruel claws deep within you, drawing your shoulders into a curve and finally freeing your tongue.

“Loneliness,” you whisper, and sigh, pain’s ashes dusting your tongue.

The hard line of his lips softens; he drifts closer. "Ahh… I understand loneliness." Your heart quivers as gold spikes radiate toward you, pallid beams that touch you with cold. Your skin pricks as though it were a specter’s icy grasp, but the leather that follows is fine and warm.

“How…?” you whisper.

Beneath the mask, he smiles. “Loneliness is lessened by the sharing. Can I trust you?”

There is only one thought, one reply. “I will never hurt you.” True or seeming, it makes no difference; this truth is imprinted on your heart. And it seems to your heart that it is no seeming that slides delicately careful arms around you, but truth. Truth, and warmth. You sigh pleasure this time.

“Come. You need sleep, do you not?”

You do. Drawn into his orbit, you leave the moon's radiant puddle on your floor. Together you gravitate to the bed, exchanging redundant layers of clothing for comfort beneath the warm blanket. You precede him, chilled limbs finding solace in the softness of your bed, a familiar space oddly compressed as you welcome the object of your admiration. He joins you with the calm demeanor of one so far above mortal concerns that your shyness feels put out, unwelcome. You seek to dismiss it, but it lingers, a guest undesirable but insistent. Looking at him, you breathe sudden fear, hands clenched against trembling uncertainty. He experiences no such hesitance, winding arms about you and drawing you close against his chest, careful hands turning you, nestling you closer.

Your back meets his chest, and four lungs expel a single sigh. Loneliness cannot retain her cruel foothold, at least not for now. You feel yourself smile. The rise and fall of his breathing, the soft stir of the expelled air behind your ear, are a silent lullaby. Its soothing tides wash you slowly closer to the shores of sleep that late denied you anchorage. As you drift ever closer, you remember what is meant when people speak of valuing the journey over the destination; sleep may be inevitable, but in his warm embrace you want to linger on the path.

When you reach your destination, you are not sensible to your arrival.

* * *

You awaken already aware that you are not alone. Even while asleep your loneliness was soothed by his presence. You did not expect him to linger past dawn's rays, but golden light pools warm on your floor, demonstrating midmorning's angles. You stir; he does not. Turning lightly against him, you smile, eased. With his robes shed, his hair spills across the pillow in silken rivulets, though his mask yet covers his face save for softly parted lips. Beholding him like this, you want to worship him. To press supplication to his lips, his chest, each fingertip one by one. Overcome, you move down, find one porcelain ankle. Your hand cups it, your lips press, just to the inside, just over the bump of bone.

It is good, but you crave more. You ascend, meticulous in your attentions, leaving no latitude of his flesh unsavored, unappreciated. He stirs softly as you round his knee, your nose caressing the rim of his kneecap as you make your tour. Your breath retreats at the movement, fearful of his response. Will he welcome worship, or reject it?

Long, slender fingers cup your chin. They ease you up, just another lips'-breadth, and pause until you make your plea. Sighing, you continue your pilgrimage, now at his direction. He elevates you by degrees, accepting his due before letting you move on each time. As you caress the softer skin inside his thighs his breathing changes, near-silent gasps and hitches interrupting him with each touch.  _ You _ do this to him;  _ you _ are the source of the fine tremor in his wrist and fingers. Despite all that he is, and how little you feel yourself to be beside him, you can affect him in this precious way. The knowing is power, and you crave more of this, more power over him.

As you reach the crux of him his hand releases you, as though afraid to demand more. Fingertips comb your hair, teasing and caressing the strands without applying enough pressure to direct you. You have no issue with this; your goal stands clear and plain. You draw yourself up, hands eager, quivering toward the evidence of his enjoyment. He inhales deeply as you take him in your hands, and your first stroke sends the breath sighing out. You bend your neck in prayer, taking him in your mouth, his head the worship on your tongue. Murmurs and sighs echo, soft hymns of praise traded back and forth. As you draw him deeper into you, he cups your face.

“Are you satisfied with this crude physical joining, or would you like more?”

You release him to let the words spill from you. “I would take anything and everything that you are willing to give me.”

He smiles.

It begins slowly. You return to suckling at him; his hands continue to stroke and caress you. You close your eyes, instinctive as his fingertips trace over them, the touch whisper-soft. His thumbs stroke arcs beneath your eyes, and stars burst behind your lids—not the white fire of a blow to the head, but pinpoints of light reminiscent of the night sky. You draw in a sharp breath through your nose as you feel yourself suspended among them, as though you hang somehow weightless in this gem-strewn void.

Your awareness of your body's actions and sensations does not so much dim as something else brightens to overshine it. Like an aperture dialing open you feel yourself expand, the change glimmering at the edges of your sight, elusive but true. As if in answer to this something stirs, like a mantle diaphanous and tenebrous. You feel it begin to close about you but you cannot  _ see _ it, you cannot  _ SEE _ —

It draws tighter—no, more than that, it draws  _ into _ you somehow, slipping past the bounds of self to mingle with you. But its taste, its color, its resonances, while not strictly familiar, are so utterly vast and unique that you cognize it—never before have you been granted the chance to experience any of this, but pleasure warms you as you accept that this can be but one thing, or rather one person. The pleasure is his, and amusement twines along it as he enfolds you.

You test your self, your strange new gleaming expansions, learning the appendages of your soul as you reach to him, _ into _ him. Tenderly he guides you, and you shiver as the joining deepens. He, too, undergoes some trembling revelation, filling you more fully, more deeply. His caresses please you, making you hunger for more, and his own enjoyment feeds that hunger, feeding into you and back to him as he drinks your joined pleasure in and returns it stronger yet.

Clutching, craving, you press by turns deeper into one another, the stars now twinkling and whirling about the two of you. You are the center of the universe, the center of one another's existence, as you dance through the pinpricked darkness. The revolutions pause, twist, and spin; though you dance, you still feel still, reality adjusting itself to you rather than the other way around. This fact is good and right; he is your anchor, keeping you safe even as you plunge to the depths of him.

You feel sparks ignite in you, gleaming embers that grow as his passion fans their flames. They swell, burning brighter, and where they lodge in your soul your very self catches fire, burning without being consumed or truly harmed. As you writhe in him, need burning and engulfing you, you see him suddenly outlined without and within you as stars flare to life throughout him. Your mutual desire floods back and forth, a raging torrent now, but far from quenching the fires raging in you, it feeds their flames.

Even nearly overwhelmed as you are, you are breathtaken by his beauty. The stars in him are the same as and different from the ones in this place. As you stretch toward their cold fire, wanting to somehow ignite them the way he did the heat within you, you realize that they are not cool, they are not small. They are unimaginably large and distant, huge and flaming. He, too, burns for you, the infernos restrained but by no means contained, barely controlled. He permits you to approach nonetheless, tension and anticipation within him like an indrawn and held breath.

You knew this globe of molten flame would be hot, but it is hotter than you could have imagined. There is pressure, too, at first compressing you and soon pulling you in as well. He cradles you, still so careful with you as you fall in, as the fires now immolating your entirety merge with his own heat. All you feel now is the pure scorch of pleasure and his tender hold upon you. You let yourself succumb fully, and are consumed.

* * *

You crash down into your body, disoriented and quivering. Tremors rock you, an orgasm burning in your belly and making you writhe, thrashing in his arms. You feel him inside you, your legs wrapped around his waist, your body pressed to his. The pleasure radiates outward, making your limbs tremble, your toes curl and release, your fingertips tingle. It cannot compare to the fire that consumed you, but in his arms it is still good, so good, as he groans and thrusts, his face pressing into your neck as yours is against his own. You shiver, chest heaving as he rocks you in time to the pulses of his ecstasy within you.

He continues to hold and rock you as you both come down, as the clench slowly releases your muscles from its command and you relax against him. Bittersweet wonder hums through you, settling into your bones. Even though you are spent, a fine tremor of surprising exhaustion in your muscles making plain that you could not do that again, not just yet, you still cannot forget the stars that lit in him.

"Are you all right?"

You press a kiss to his skin before raising your head. "Would that that could have gone on forever."

He smiles and kisses your lips, gentle. "I gave you everything I deemed safe."

"Thank you." The words do not seem sufficient. You stroke your hands down him, trailing through hair, down his jaw, along his neck and over his shoulders. He lays you back, withdrawing from you and rising. He brushes his lips over your forehead as he draws the blankets up to warm you in his body's absence.

"Rest, and take care of yourself when you awaken. You have been taxed nigh to your limit."

You nod, eyes and limbs heavy. His hands make one last tour of your face and hair.

"I do not know when time may permit it, but I will return to you when I can."

Your eyes snap open, energized by hope. You catch his wrist and press a reverent kiss to each fingertip, as you've long wanted to. Bereft of words, you pour the emotion into action, and his smile tells you he understands.

"Now rest," he stresses, an edge of strong entreaty laced in the words. You nod again, smiling and warm as sleep claims you once more.


End file.
